Putting Aside Unkind Conversations

Divine Appeal Reflection - 17

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 17: "do not waste your precious time in unkind conversations. Put aside all this"

The tongue is not just a tool for making sounds; it is where what is inside the heart comes into the open. Every word is a vessel of the heart’s devotion, carrying with it the inclinations, attachments, and loyalties we embrace; nothing spoken ever leaves the soul unmarked. From the very dawn of Scripture, speech is revealed as sacred: creation itself comes forth at God’s command, humanity is shaped and ordered through naming, and each divine utterance fulfills its purpose with unerring fidelity (cf. Gn 1; Is 55:11). Speech can either shelter communion or slowly erode it, and for this reason it must always be offered with care before God. Our Adorable Jesus gently but firmly unveils the source of such speech, teaching that words do not betray us by accident; they reveal what love has been neglected within (cf. Mt 12:36–37). 

Long before malice appears in action, it takes root in language stripped of reverence. The Church decisively reminds us that even words spoken without obvious hostility can wound justice and fracture communion, because speech shapes the moral atmosphere in which souls live and relate (cf. CCC 2477). Every word either shelters love or erodes it. To speak without care is, in some measure, to forget that God still listens.. In the presence of the Eucharist, this truth becomes piercing: the same mouth that receives Christ is called to carry Him into the world through speech. Moses’ outburst, Elijah’s despairing words, and Peter’s denial show how quickly holy missions are endangered when the tongue outruns trust (cf. Nm 20; 1 Kgs 19; Lk 22). Jesus’ appeal—do not waste your precious time in unkind conversations—is therefore mystical. Time is not neutral; it is sacrificial. Every unkind word dissipates grace, while every restrained word gathers it. Across all vocations, speech becomes either a doorway for God or a barrier against Him.

Avoiding unkind speech is not achieved by technique alone but by transformation through silence. Before His voice ever shaped the multitude, Jesus allowed silence to shape Him. Before His Body was offered as Bread, His heart was first offered in prayer. In this way, solitude is revealed not as withdrawal but as formation—the hidden place where words learn obedience (cf. Mk 1:35; Jn 17). The wisdom tradition teaches that restraint of speech safeguards life itself, because only a quiet heart can be instructed by God before it dares to speak (cf. Prv 13:3). The Catechism places this discipline within temperance, which orders even desire, not just action (cf. CCC 1809). Saints understood silence as fire: St. Benedict formed communities by restraining speech so charity could grow; St. John of the Cross warned that many words scatter the soul. Practically, this becomes a spiritual habit across all states of life: a brief inward recollection before replying, invoking the Holy Name, remembering the Eucharistic Presence dwelling within. In families, this creates safety; in workplaces, integrity; in ministry, reverence. To avoid unkind speech is to let Christ occupy the interior first. When the heart is inhabited by Him, words lose their sharpness and acquire weight, becoming fewer, slower, and truer (cf. Jn 15:5).

Even a prayerful soul stumbles in speech, and Scripture never hides this fragility. What matters is how failure is carried. The Church also teaches that when our words have caused pain to others, it is not enough to proceed as though nothing has happened. Love calls us to do the very opposite of the harm done—to seek healing and restore trust, because this is how truth and charity act, not by concealing wounds but by repairing them (cf. CCC 2487).Peter’s tears did not take away his voice; they changed it. The strongest among the Apostles was not converted by strength, but by silence broken through tears. His redemption came from recognizing that truth has to go through humility first before it can be spoken, not through louder speaking or quicker settlement. The voice that had previously broken down in fear was changed by grace, which allowed it to bear witness to Christ publicly once again—this time from conviction shaped by mercy rather than by instinct (cf. Lk 22:62; Acts 2). Spiritually, managing unkind speech begins by returning the broken word to Christ, especially before the Eucharist, where nothing honest is rejected. Saints show that repentance retrains the tongue: St. Augustine’s confession healed not only his past but his manner of teaching; St. Thérèse transformed interior sharpness into hidden sacrifices of love, allowing grace to reshape instinct. Practically, this means prompt apology without self-defense, quiet restitution, and changed patterns rather than dramatic regret. Our adorable Jesus, silent before accusation yet merciful from the Cross, reveals that redeemed speech is born from humility (cf. Lk 23:34). Each acknowledged failure weakens pride and deepens vigilance. Thus even wounded conversations can become altars where grace finishes what weakness began (cf. 2 Cor 12:9).

Some souls live surrounded by crude, corrosive speech, unaware that it slowly suffocates the spirit. Jesus never shattered such worlds violently; He introduced another voice—truth spoken gently—until hearts recognized freedom (cf. Jn 4). Helping others escape unkind conversations begins with presence more than instruction. The saints provide illuminating instances of living this wisdom: St. Dominic tackled blasphemy with the humble strength of prayer rather than reprimand, while St. Teresa of Ávila would reroute heated or difficult conversations with peaceful grace, employing lightness instead of cutting words. True correction never destroys a person; rather, it points them in the direction of truth while honouring their inner image of God. The Church reminds us that patience, kindness, and regard for human dignity must be the foundation of such instruction (cf. CCC 1829). In this way, consistent tenderness that changes hearts without dehumanising them softens and unsettles even brutality (cf. 1 Pt 3:1–2). When correction is grounded in love, it transforms hearts without causing harm. Practically, one may withdraw from harmful talk, introduce silence, or gently elevate themes. Eucharistic intimacy enlarges the heart to endure misunderstanding while remaining peaceful. To assist others in laying aside unkind speech is a work of mercy that restores interior freedom. When speech is purified, relationships begin to mend, communities recover their unity, and even time itself is redeemed, because words no longer waste grace but cooperate with it. Language then returns to its original purpose—not as a weapon or distraction, but as a vessel of life, truth, and mercy, spoken in a way that reflects God’s own generosity toward us (cf. Col 4:6)

Prayer 

Our adorable Jesus, hidden and gentle in the Eucharist, descend into our hearts and sanctify our tongues. Heal the wounds our words have caused. Teach us holy silence, humble repentance, and merciful speech. May every word rise as an offering of love, and every moment be redeemed in You. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.